


Shelter Before the Storm

by shadows_of_1832 (SaoirseVictoire)



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Kind of blended two of the prompts here, prompt 3 night, prompt 4 a little fall of rain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-28 22:30:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15716397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaoirseVictoire/pseuds/shadows_of_1832
Summary: As he ponders what is to come, she offers a counterpoint."The rain starts to come down faster. She takes a few steps back from the bridge’s edge and twirls on the cobblestones, water dripping from her hair and clothes. To his surprise, she grabs hold of his wrist in invitation, but he can only stare."





	Shelter Before the Storm

Paris has gone silent.

He stands on a bridge overlooking the Seine. The moonlight reflects in the water while stars dot the night sky, some hidden by rain clouds. The wind brushes through the trees. Candles flicker in dark windows. There’s the soft sound of the water hitting the edge of the cobblestones.

The calm before the storm.

He doesn’t know what will happen tomorrow, if he’ll live to see another sky such as this. He does know that tomorrow, Paris will be up in arms by the time the moon rises again.

Footsteps break his inner thoughts. He turns his head, and sees a familiar face approach.

“Thenardier,” he says with a curt nod. “What are you doing about?”

“Wandering, as always,” she replies, leaning against the stone wall. “It’s a good night for that.”

“I see.”

“Shouldn’t you be home, resting?” she teases, though seriousness lies in her tone. “Tomorrow’s a big day for you, isn’t it?”

He looks down to the water then back at her. “Yes.”

She was right; rest would be a good thing for him right now, for surely he would need to focus all his energy on whatever events tomorrow will put him through. Yet, with that in mind, he needed a distraction, something to keep his mind away from the death and destruction that could be waiting for him—a late night walk seemed to be the best remedy for that, especially with all the thoughts plaguing his mind and denying him sleep.

“You can’t change the world so easily,” she says. “What you’re planning to do, if you should succeed and survive tomorrow, will leave a long road ahead of you before you’ll achieve what you seek.”

“I am aware of that.”

She comes closer, leaning against the wall near enough that their shoulders touch. “I don’t think you are, just as I don’t think you realize the odds are against you.”

His eyes narrow. “Do you sincerely think I am blind to what is ahead?”

“That’s one way of putting it.”

“You must have forgotten I have dealt with this before.”

“That was a different time, different circumstances,” she replies. “And too near to now. The people won’t risk anything again too soon.”

“I have faith that there’s those among them who do want change.”

“And fewer who will put their lives on the wrong side of a gun.” She brushes a piece of hair out of her face. “Enjolras, you’re risking your life for nothing.”

He scoffs. “I am aware of the odds, Thenardier—I have thought through what I could. There is no guarantee that I shall see the moon rise again, but that should not stop me from trying.”

She places a hand on his shoulder, and he turns his head towards her; there’s concern in her eyes. “You can’t rewrite the stars.”

“Pardon?”

“You can’t change the way things are, not the way the world stands now. You can try, but I doubt you’ll find what you want on the other side.” She looks up to the sky.

He stares at her, then goes back to looking at the water below. He knows of the risks, he knows of the possibilities…Why is she determined to only look at the negative side of it all?

“You’re a dreamer, Enjolras.” She turns her head towards him, rain starting to sprinkle down. “Can’t say there’s wrong in that, but in these circumstances, those dreams will turn into nightmares.”

She gazes down at the water, avoiding his gaze. Then, an explanation, a name, comes to mind, but he doesn’t voice it aloud, aware of the stinging remarks he’ll receive in return. Instead, he attempts an alternate route.

“What if we could rewrite the stars?” he asks. “You believe nothing but death will come of this, but what if we could change that? What if we could change so as to avoid all that, to make peace?”

“That’s not how this government works, based on what I’ve heard.” She shivers, and he offers her his coat. She declines. “I don’t deserve a pretty thing like that, and was I to take it upon our departure, someone’d steal it from me, for sure.”

“Thenardier—”

“Why does it matter to you what I say, anyway?” She turns her focus to him. “Why are you insistent that I change my mind?”

“I—”

“Twenty-four hours from now, will it matter?” she snaps. “Is what I say now going to have any value to you later?”

A pause.

He puts his coat over her shoulders. She doesn’t shove it away.

“You’ll get cold without one, monsieur,” she says, tightening the coat around her.

“I can manage for a time.”

A small smile forms upon her face. “Say tomorrow there’s no barricades, no fight. If you could simply approach the king, ask for the government to return the state of the republic, save us all from bloodshed, in some ways you’d be considered a hero.

"If you could bring change, help the poor so they have proper food and shelter, you’d be beloved by all except those who prefer the government to remain in a monarchial state.” She looks back at the water, taking a deep breath. “Those who are to be killed in the coming fight will survive, the poor will be alive, and less lives are lost altogether.

“But you don’t get change without a fight, whether it’s through violence or a war of words, or even a blend of the two.”

He nods, his hair starting to drip from the rain.

She smiles. “Suppose you succeed one way or another. What’s in it for you afterward?”

“Multiple challenges that come from organizing a government,” he replies, noticing the droplets forming on her damp hair. “It will take time, and I may not be directly involved in its formation.”

She shakes her head, chuckling. “There’s more to life than ‘changing the world.’ Hard work is one thing, but I believe there’s little you’ve been doing to enjoy life.”

The rain starts to come down faster. She takes a few steps back from the bridge’s edge and twirls on the cobblestones, water dripping from her hair and clothes. To his surprise, she grabs hold of his wrist in invitation, but he can only stare.

Most people would run for cover if caught in the rain like this. She embraces it. She spins and laughs and her eyes are bright. There is no fear or darkness surrounding her. It’s a rare sight from her usually downtrodden form, a sniper with her tongue and torn with her heart. Her seriousness brought from years on the street has vanished, to be replaced with a playfulness rarely seen after childhood.

And she stops spinning. She looks at him, curiosity in her eyes.

“Is something wrong, Enjolras?” she asks, tilting her head to the side.

He smiles, walking towards her. He places his hands on her shoulders to adjust the coat. “Not at all, but perhaps it would both do us well if we took shelter from the storm before it downpours.”

She makes a noncommittal “hm” as she looks to the puddles on the ground.

He offers her his arm, and she takes it.


End file.
